


A Light in the Distance

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Dean, Angel Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Eve, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Human Castiel, Hunter Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't celebrate Christmas. He doesn't see the point. He's a hunter and the Supernatural world doesn't take time off, so neither does he. </p><p>Dean has other ideas, but he doesn't realize just how adverse to Christmas Castiel really is or why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_frayed_edge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_frayed_edge/gifts).



> Written for this prompt: "reverse!verse: Hunter Castiel is too consumed by the hunting life to have any inclination or reason to slow down for Christmas. Angel!Dean is determined to enjoy his first earthbound Christmas with his charge." 
> 
> It ended up a little on the angsty side but I hope that there's enough comfort to make up for that. 
> 
> I'd like to thank Casness for Beta reading, and Steffi and Jon for being my Alpha readers and giving me pointers.

"You know, if any of these is meant to be an accurate representation of me, then I am seriously offended."

Castiel stared, dumbfounded, at Dean. 

When the angel had wondered away from him, Castiel hadn't expected to find him in the Christmas aisle, inspecting the rows of angel tree toppers as if they were his garrison on parade.

Dean tipped the angel he was holding over, pulling down the white robes that covered it and sighed.

"Whoever said we were junkless did not have all the facts."

"Don't do that," Castiel said. He snatched the angel from Dean's hands, turning it the right way up and smoothing down the robes. "It's supposed to go on the top of a Christmas tree. It doesn't need junk and you look creepy." 

"Do you think I'm going to get in trouble for looking? I've done a lot more than just look up angel skirts," Dean said. 

"It's a robe," Castiel said. He didn't want to know about Dean and his escapades. When he'd pictured angels, when he'd prayed for them, he'd never imagined they'd be like Dean. 

"We don't wear robes," Dean said, losing interest in the tree toppers now that there was tinsel close at hand. He picked up a length of silver tinsel and eyed it thoughtfully. "We're soldiers; robes would just get in the way."

“Well, if it’s any consolation, we won’t be having any of this at the bunker,” Castiel said.

“Why? Are you more of a traditional pine cones and dried orange slices kind of guy?” Dean asked. He almost sounded hopeful, or so Castiel thought.

“No,” Castiel said, turning away from the bright, tacky aisle of decorations. “I just don’t celebrate Christmas. I don’t see much point in it.” 

He started to walk away. If he stayed there much longer, Dean would only try to convince him to buy something. Dean was far too interested in anything shiny and expensive. If it happened to have cheese poured over it or come in a bottle then he liked it even more. Dean didn’t need to eat or drink, he didn’t need material things. Castiel was sure angels weren’t supposed to salivate over cars or other worldly goods. They were supposed to be above things like that. Only Dean wasn’t. 

There were quick footsteps behind him then Dean appeared at his side.

“What do you mean you don’t celebrate Christmas? Why?” he asked. 

“There isn’t any reason, is there?” Castiel said with a shrug. “Christmas is all about joy and goodness, about family and I don’t have any of that.” 

He had an empty bunker, a legacy he was supposed to be part of and a lot of memories. He’d been to Hell. He was tainted, deep down in his soul. He couldn’t embrace Christmas; embrace the goodness of humanity and innocence of it all, when he knew the darkness underneath. 

He’d seen the monsters and he’d found out the half of them used to be people like him. Being a hunter had stripped him of his naivety and all the twinkly lights and softly sung hymns couldn’t give that back to him. 

He expected Dean to argue. He argued about everything else but Dean was silent. Castiel risked a glance at him, surprised by the expression he saw on Dean’s face. He was frowning, but not in the stubborn, disappointed way he did when Castiel refused to buy him a cheeseburger. He looked sad.

Dean caught his glance and stared back at him unflinchingly.

“You should have those things,” he said. 

Castiel caught his breath and looked away quickly. 

“I just want to finish shopping, Dean,” he said. 

He didn’t have the energy for a fight but he was even less inclined to hear Dean tell him how good he was. He knew what Dean would say – he’d remind Castiel about how he was righteous, about how many angels had died to free him from Hell. He’d tell him about his place in the grand scheme of things and how that made Castiel important and Castiel didn’t want to hear any of those things. He didn’t want to feel the guilt of it all. 

Dean’s pep talks were all about who Castiel was supposed to be, not who he was. Dean wouldn’t even be here with him if Castiel wasn’t Heaven’s chosen one. He certainly wouldn’t be hunkering down to share his first Christmas on Earth with a miserable recluse like Castiel. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Castiel said quietly as they neared the tills. “You can go back to Heaven. I’m just going to check out some leads and work. It won’t be any fun.”

“No one should be alone at Christmas time,” Dean said.

Castiel shook his head. He reached into the shopping cart and pulled out the supplies, slamming them down onto the conveyor belt with renewed anger. 

Dean would understand in time. Once he realized it wasn’t going to be any different at the bunker, that Castiel was just going to treat it like any other time of the year, he’d go back to Heaven. Castiel hoped he realized it sooner rather than later. Castiel would be happier alone without the nagging feeling that Dean was wasting his time on him. 

**

Castiel had expected some sort of argument. 

He had at least expected sulking. For an ethereal creature, Dean had mastered sulking with exceptional speed. There were no arguments though, no hunched shoulders and long, meaningful glares. Dean came and went as he normally did, popping in when he was bored or he needed Castiel to do something for him. Castiel began to believe that Dean had actually listened to him. 

Dean, when he turned up, brought him new leads in his cases or told him where clusters of demons had been sighted. Castiel was able to throw himself into his work and Christmas seemed to have been forgotten completely. 

It had been too good to be true.

Castiel stumbled back to the bunker late on Christmas Eve. At least he hadn’t had to struggle with pagan gods this year but there were more than enough monsters that had no idea when to lay dormant. There was no silent night for Castiel. 

It shouldn’t have mattered to Castiel that this hunt took him to a church, that he heard the sweet sound of carols on the breeze as he dug up a corpse and burned it. He couldn’t get the refrain out of his head, the promise of heavenly peace. He’d even said a prayer for the spirit he was sending away before he burned its body. He hadn’t prayed in years. 

All through the drive home, he heard the carol in his head and when he reached the bunker, he was determined to go straight to bed. He didn’t want to remember Christmas, didn’t want to remember other people’s joy. He just wanted to put his head down and sleep through the next day. 

As soon as he walked in, it was apparent that his plan to ignore Christmas wasn’t going to be allowed. 

The whole of the bunker was lit up with twinkling silver lights. They looked like little stars. There was a Christmas tree in one corner of the room, huge and organic; filling the room with the scent of pine and underneath it was an angel – a living, non-ornamental angel – swearing as he tried his hand at wrapping presents. 

Castiel gaped at it all in awe. He didn’t know if he was angry or overwhelmed. It was simple and beautiful, but he was going to kill Dean.   
“Dean,” he said, surprised by the control in his voice.

Dean turned, shoving whatever he’d been wrapping under the tree. “You’re back! I thought you’d be gone longer. I’m not finished yet.”

“I thought we agreed I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Castiel said evenly. 

“We did,” Dean said, nodding. “But I celebrate it and I live here too, don’t I?” 

Castiel shook his head slowly. He’d told Dean he was free to come and go as he wanted, that the bunker was his but Dean didn’t live there. He was an angel. He lived in Heaven. The bunker was simply a place to stop, a place to find Castiel. It wasn’t Dean’s home. At least, Castiel had never considered it Dean’s home.

Dean was watching him carefully now, slow understanding creeping into his eyes.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” he asked. “When you said this was mine as well as yours, you didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” Castiel insisted. “I just meant you could hang out here. I didn’t realize that you considered this your…I didn’t realize.” 

Dean was up on his feet in a flash. “You didn’t realize I always want to be here? That this is my home? That you’re my home? I rebelled for you, Castiel. I killed my brothers and my sisters for you. I only go back to Heaven because I have to, because they need me. I always want to be here, Castiel. I always want to be with you.” 

Castiel swallowed hard. They so rarely talked about the things they’d done, about the apocalypse. Dean had had a mission. Raise Castiel from Hell; make sure he played his part. He’d taken one look at Castiel – at what Heaven had made him do – and he’d thrown down his sword and chosen Castiel over everything. They had known each other for a year and in that year they had rewritten everything that had ever been planned. It was a brave new world they’d created - a world in which Castiel was alone and Dean had killed his family. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said quietly, not sure if he was apologizing because of what he’d made Dean do or because of what he’d said. “I just…now that it’s over, I don’t want to be your obligation.”

“You’re not an obligation,” Dean said stubbornly. 

“You have a chance to go back, to have a family, to rebuild and I don’t understand why you’d want to be with me,” Castiel said.

His shoulders sagged. He couldn’t face fighting. Once, there would never have been a fight. Dean would have just left. It had been easier then. Castiel hadn’t been alone. He’d had a brother, he’d had Gabriel. Gabriel, who’d chosen the safety of the world over his own life and cast himself into Hell. Castiel would have told him Dean was unfathomable, incompressible and Gabriel would have just smiled his knowing smile and asked if they’d kissed yet. 

Looking at Dean now, remembering his brother’s gentle mocking about Castiel’s crush on an angel, Castiel felt sick. It was wrong that he was alive, wrong that he was there when his brother wasn’t. How could he ever let Dean in? He was supposed to be alone; he was supposed to be guilty. He wasn’t supposed to have anything good. He couldn’t let himself. He wouldn’t allow it. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to have Christmas or Dean. 

Dean stared at him and Castiel wondered if he was screaming his thoughts loudly enough for Dean to hear. Maybe he was. Maybe now Dean would finally understand. Castiel wanted him. Castiel loved him, but he couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t allow himself to be happy. 

“I love you,” Dean said. He was at Castiel’s side in the blink of an eye, his arms around him. “You’re my family, Cas. I love you.” 

“Don’t say that,” Castiel said. “We’ve both…it’s not right, it’s not.”

“Cas,” Dean murmured, his hold on Castiel tight. “Christmas is about forgiveness. Please, forgive yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong, Castiel. All you did was survive.” 

Castiel felt his mouth go dry. He knew, rationally, that Dean was right. He hadn’t made Gabriel’s choice for him. He hadn’t done anything more than live, putting one foot in front of the other, day after day. It was miserable and awful, but he’d survived. He’d survived and so had Dean.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” he said, pulling away from Dean and gesturing to the tree and the lights.

“It’s not meant to solve anything, it’s just meant to make you happy,” Dean said. “I just want to make you happy.” 

Castiel knew he could shove Dean away. He knew that if he pushed hard enough, if he told Dean to leave, then the angel would leave. Castiel could continue on alone, could continue denying himself what he wanted. He could close himself down, shut out everyone but he’d tried that and nothing had been enough. The pain was still there, it was still raw. Self-denial hadn’t given him anything. It certainly hadn’t brought Gabriel back. 

His fingers trembled as he held on to Dean. 

Gabriel’s sacrifice had been about love. He’d wanted Castiel to keep living. He’d wanted the world to keep living. If he saw what Castiel was doing to himself, he would be so angry. He had wanted Castiel to be happy too. 

Castiel knew that and he knew what he wanted, but it was hard to let himself move on. It was hard to enjoy himself, harder still to let himself be loved. The fact that the world had kept moving, had continued just as Gabriel had wanted, was the hardest thing of all for him to come to terms with. 

“Cas,” Dean said softly and Castiel knew it was a prompt. Dean wanted to know what he should do. 

He tightened his grip on Dean and leaned into him. If there was anyone who could understand what he’d lost, anyone who could understand what he needed, it would be Dean. It would be hard and Castiel wasn’t a fool. He knew that as much as Dean pushed the spirit of Christmas, forgiveness and acceptance didn’t come overnight. It was still manageable though. He could keep going, could put one foot in front of the other and Dean would be there to hold his hand and walk with him. They could face the brave new world together, instead of apart. 

“Cas,” Dean said again, hardly more than a whisper this time. “What do you want?”

“I want you to kiss me,” Castiel said, tipping his head up to feel the first brush of Dean’s lips against his own.

There was magic in Dean’s kiss, something more powerful than everything he’d ever been built for. It made Castiel feel safe, made him feel warm and, in the deepest part of his soul, the kiss made him remember that he shouldn’t be alone. In the smallest of ways, it began to stitch him together again, to make him feel whole. 

When he couldn’t breathe any more, Castiel broke away. He was panting but he held on to Dean, smiling at him. Dean smiled back.

“Do you want me to take the Christmas decorations down?” he asked. “I can do it in the blink of an eye.”

Castiel heard the rustle of unseen wings. Dean could probably strip the room in the blink of an eye, faster than he’d put up the decorations. If Dean had asked him a moment ago, he would have said yes. 

It was still a lot, the Christmas tree and the lights and the haphazardly wrapped present, more than Castiel had allowed himself before, but now he found himself cautiously optimistic. When he looked at the Christmas tree he felt hope. He wanted to know what Dean had been wrapping for him. He wanted to sit underneath the tree on Christmas morning and curse himself for not having a gift for Dean. 

“No,” he said. “Leave it. It looks good.” He pressed his face close to Dean’s, rubbing their cheeks together. Dean’s was smooth and his had the beginnings of a night’s stubble on it but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just hugged him tighter. 

“I haven’t got anything for you,” Castiel breathed. “No presents, nothing like that.”

He felt Dean’s smile against his cheek, felt the warm huff of his laughter.

“I don’t need presents,” Dean said. “I’m an angel. We don’t need them.”

“You like things,” Castiel murmured. “You’re a materialistic jerk.” 

Dean laughed again, harder this time. 

“Don’t blame me. Humans have just got a lot more interesting since I was last on earth. You’re here, after all.” 

“Smooth,” Castiel muttered, turning his head so he could catch Dean’s lips and kiss him again. 

He couldn’t help wondering what he had done to deserve Dean. Dean had pulled him out of Hell once – the real, godforsaken place and then he’d done it again, pulled Castiel free of the grief he’d been drowning himself in. It felt strange to Castiel, not to be weighed down by the pain of it and he was frightened it wouldn’t last, but he knew that if he stumbled, Dean would help him. 

He wouldn’t ever be alone. He had Dean. He’d had Dean since the first moment Dean had laid eyes on him in Hell. Dean had seen someone worth saving. He’d seen someone worth loving. He’d seen Castiel at the very worst he’d ever been and he’d still stayed. Castiel couldn’t help but love him back. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, pulling back from Dean just enough to get the words out. “My room. Our room. If you want it to be our room.”

“I want that,” Dean said. “I really want that.” 

Castiel nodded. He felt nervous but the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach came from excitement too. He’d thought about Dean, about having Dean in his bed, more times than he liked to count. He didn’t know what he was ready for yet, if he could do more than just kissing, but he wanted to do it in the comfort and security of Dean’s arms, curled up in their bed together. 

“Come on then,” he said, taking Dean’s hand and curling their fingers together.


End file.
